Home and Coffin
by Mekril
Summary: This town is our home, and our graves. Halling had told the boy. It was true. He had learned it firsthand. None of them could leave.


**A/N:** This story takes place in the manga, with some ideas drawn from both animes. It will have OCs, since it revolves around a side character and starts long before canon, though they will likely not be important outside of one or two scenes.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. Halling, town names, and all other characters are the property of Hiromu Arakawa and Funimation.

**Home and Coffin**

_May 1890_

Halling's family was the one of the oldest in town. He knew that when he would grow up, he would be a miner, as was his father, and his father's father. As a child, he worked as a go-fer, delivering water, carts, and anything else the miners needed.

The desert town was beautiful in the moonlight, Halling sat outside the family inn, reading in the low light of the patio. Footsteps drew him out of the book, and the brown-haired youth looked up.

"Hey, mom."

"Halling, come inside. It's getting late."

"Give me five more minutes."  
His mother sighed and sat beside him.  
"Why do you spend so much time reading this stuff? It's not going to be much help. If you wanted to become an alchemist, you'd need a real teacher. We just can't afford to bring one out here." She wanted to encourage him, she really did. But she knew that it would only end in heartbreak for him. He was smart, smarter than most of the boys his age, but they had no money, no way of affording a teacher.

"We're always struggling so hard, just to get by. Alchemy could save us. If I can become a good enough, I could work and send money here. I could even help keep the mine stable, so we don't have as many deaths. I could-"  
His mother placed a hand on his head.

"I'm leaving, mom. I'm going to find a teacher." He looked away, not wanting to see his mother cry.

"Let's talk to your father first." His mother answered with finality, grabbing his arm. He nodded, and followed her back into the inn, the alchemy book tucked beneath his elbow.

Kerf's Restaurant and Inn was still bustling, even at such a late hour. His mother tapped the bar, drawing attention from her husband. Halling's father nodded to her, and together they moved to their living quarters. Archie waved to the family as he took over the bar.

Kerf sat at their personal table, Halling placed his book on top and looked up at the older man. His mother stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

Kerf looked down at Halling, his brown eyes warm. He smiled and propped up his chin, looking at the alchemy book, then straight into Halling's determined eyes.

"Dad. I want to leave town. I want to become an alchemist."  
"And?"  
"That's all. I want to find a teacher, we need help. I don't want to watch any more people die from black lung and mine collapses without being able to help! Dad, please understand."  
"Do you think you can do it? Do you think you can learn enough to save us as you travel?"

"I have to try, dad. If I don't, who will? We can't afford doctors every time someone gets sick or injured. Dad, we need it. Alchemy will save us!"

Kerf gave a meaningful glance to his wife. She frowned and looked down.

"Very well. If you truly want this, you may leave tomorrow evening. We will supply you with food, water, and enough money to get by. Good luck, my son." He stood up and nodded.

The night passed quickly. A knock on the door woke him up at dawn. His mother was standing with a bag of food and clothing in one hand, and a filled water skin in her other hand. He gladly took them, excited for his journey.

He slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked into the desert, ignoring his mother's protests to wait. He followed the train tracks, at least for the first leg of his journey. Central would likely be the best place to go.

Two hours later, he realized that starting the journey during the day was not such a good plan. Halling was gasping for water, sweating and struggling to walk. He took a deep breath, and continued following the tracks. By noon, he was hungry. The spring heat had sapped him of strength, and he sat in the shade of a large rock.

He took a large gulp of his water, knowing that he was an idiot for drinking so much, yet unable to bring himself to drink less, and opened his alchemy book. He distracted himself by reading over the Periodic Table, and tried a transmutation circle in the sand. His work was shoddy, yet effective, a shaky pillar of sand rose above him. However, it crumbled soon after forming.

He sighed and waited until sunset to continue his journey. He pulled out the map his mother had given him. How far had he walked now? It was only seventeen kilometers to the next town, yet he felt as if he had walked thirty. He was an idiot. Maybe he should just go home. No, he wouldn't stop now. As soon as dusk fell, he stood up from his rocky shelter and continued his trek along the tracks. Maybe he'd be able to get a manual job in town and afford a train ticket. He wanted to save enough to find a teacher. Dawn was painting the mountains blue as he entered Aszamem.

Aszamem was a sleepy town, even smaller than Youswell, and clearly just as poor. There was only one inn, with no work to be found anywhere. The innkeeper's wife took pity on him and offered him some free bread and water.

He sat in the town square, and drew out his map again. His eyes widened, and he cursed. The next town was forty kilometers away, and the town after that was another twenty. He buried his head in his arms. How was he going to do this? He fell asleep on the bench, head still wrapped in his arms.

Halling awoke to a child poking him. It was dusk again. He had slept through the entire day. The child giggled and ran off. In alarm, he checked his bag. Nothing had been stolen. He groaned and stood up, stretching. Since he had not been able to help out at the inn, he checked his rations again, his water-skin was full from the inn, and he had some pieces of bread. He could only hope these would last him long enough to reach Gejba. He followed the sun out of town, bag slung over his shoulder.


End file.
